Lac Bay, Bonaire: A Journey of Wind, Waves, and Serendipity
As I leave Bonaire, I’m carrying home not just memories of incredible dives, but something deeper. Usually my trips here are defined by the rhythm of the sea—dive after dive, my personal record being 28 in a single week. But this time, I broke the pattern.
Instead of chasing only the reefs, I circumnavigated the island in a slow, clockwise loop—through Rincón, down the rugged east coast, and finally, to a place that continues to surprise me: Lac Bay.
Sometimes the best memories are the ones you don’t plan for. And for me, Lac Bay became more than just a stop on the map—it became a reminder of coincidence, connection, and the power of wild places to change us.
Check my YouTube Channel for the full video: https://youtu.be/pBR2HzuPJpM?si=DUCH6_IhSXLqZ5fQ
First Impressions of Lac Bay
From the sky, Lac Bay looks like a turquoise gem, framed by mangroves and protected by a coral reef that takes the brunt of the Atlantic swells. It’s known worldwide as a mecca for kiteboarders and windsurfers, with steady trade winds and shallow waters that stretch out for miles.
But the bay isn’t only about sport. It’s a living ecosystem—home to green turtles, queen conchs, and a delicate balance between recreation and preservation. Standing there, framed by black mangroves and mounds of sun-bleached conch shells, I felt like I had stepped into another world.
A Memory from Years Ago
Many years ago, I stood in this very spot, preparing with friends and my scuba mentor to dive a site called White Hole. The weather was rough—dark skies, pounding surf, and relentless current. We geared up, but the sea made the decision for us. We aborted the dive. It was the right call, but the memory stayed with me.
This time, the scene was different. The sun was bright, the lagoon calm, though the steady easterly winds still carried the same wild energy. That’s when I heard it—a sharp tearing sound, like paper ripping, followed by a splash. I looked up just in time to see something I could barely believe: a lone wing-foiler, flying across the bay as if levitating above the water.
I fumbled for my camera, unprepared for the encounter, but managed to capture a few fleeting frames. That random moment would set the tone for everything that followed.
Sorobon and Jibe City
Later that day, I drove to the southern end of the bay, to Sorobon Beach. The vibe here couldn’t be more different. Known as Jibe City, it’s a hub of music, food, and kiteboarding energy. Beginners wobble on their first rides while pros slice through the water with effortless grace.
I stopped for lunch—a mahi sandwich and a cold beer—and soaked in the rhythm of the place. Lac Bay, I realized, isn’t just about nature or sport. It’s about community.
A Chance Encounter
As I sat at Jibe City, a stranger approached me. Lean, sun-tanned, with the look of an endurance athlete, he asked in a European accent:
“Was that you taking photos at the North Point?”
I squinted into the sun, trying to place him. And then it clicked: he was the mysterious figure I had seen wing-foiling across the bay. His name was Sipke Meijer, a professional wing-foiler from the Netherlands who now spends part of his life in Bonaire.
What began as a chance encounter turned into an unforgettable highlight of my trip. Watching Sipke carve across the bay with speed, control, and artistry was like watching someone dance with the wind. It was pure harmony between human and nature.
Reflections
Lac Bay is a place of contrasts—fragile yet powerful, wild yet welcoming. It thrives when we respect it: when we protect its mangroves, tread lightly on its reefs, and balance adventure with conservation.
For me, this visit was more than just another stop on my Bonaire journey. It was a reminder of why I keep returning to this island, and why certain places stay with us long after we’ve left.
Lac Bay wasn’t just a destination. It was a mirror. Standing there, with the wind in my face and the sea stretching out to the horizon, I felt something shift inside me. The noise of the world fell away, and what remained was clarity: this is what it means to be alive, to seek, to connect.
I came here chasing adventure. I left with a piece of Lac Bay’s soul woven into mine.
✨ Have you ever visited a place that changed the way you see yourself? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.
Would you like me to also make a shorter version (500–600 words) that’s more concise and blog-reader friendly, or keep it at this more narrative travel-essay length for storytelling impact?
